


Nobody said we had to be the PERFECT Paladins

by StolenVampires



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Humor, If you sleep thousands of years are you one young woman with grandma aesthetics, Im gonna drag everyone, No pairings - Freeform, One Adult means One Dad, Shit Posting in Space, Tags Are Hard, Teenagers are supposed to save the universe, They can barely be trusted to operate a toaster oven, are you just a very well aged elder who pretends to be hip?, just guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-12-25 15:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenVampires/pseuds/StolenVampires
Summary: "Look, all I'm saying is that nobody made rules about how to be a GOOD Paladin, just you know, don't go crazy and try to rule the universe.""In other words, don't be a Zarkon?""YEAH. EXACTLY! Don't be such a Zarkon Shiro.""...""Not going to lie, but Lance kind of has a point.""SEE, EVEN PIDGE AGREES, AND THEY'RE THE SMART ONE!"(A collection of one-shot prompts highlighting shit the paladins do because they're basically stuck on a ship with nothing to do most days)





	1. Prompt/Chapter List

List of Prompts:

1- Lance learns to backflip for ~ Aesthetics ~  
2- Hunk VRS 1 Poptart for breakfast  
3- Keith just wants a prickly boy (and a clay pot)  
4- Pidge speaks fake earth languages Part 1 (Tolkien Elvish…all 3)  
5- Pidge its time to stop Part 2 (Klingon)  
6- [Aggressive Crying] Part 3 (Binary)  
7- Shiro tries to understand why he is the designated group dad  
8- Allura is only in fashion because retro is real  
9- Bonus: Lotor or is it l'oreal? Otherwise known as who let Pidge send out memes on the communicator?

Buckle up Bitches  
I’m shit posting but with fanfic prompts I'm going to be filling


	2. Lance

He had been spending roughly several hours trying to perfect the skill. At first glance, one would just chalk it up to another weird thing Lance was doing and probably had no business attempting to do because he was bound to hurt himself. And well, they would have been right. He had no business trying to backflip off of the stairs onto a mattress but by the power of the red lion he was going to do it and he was going to master it. Gravity and space be damned he wasn’t going to learn it with training wheels.

Just a small bit of height and cushion at first because after face planting nearly 6 times on a hard tile surface he was not up for the black and blue look. He was the new red paladin and man, it clashed okay.

That was how after roughly two hours later he was laying ass up on the new rather beat up mattress at the bottom on some stairs, moaning into the fabric about how it was not fair they made it look so simple in movies and how maybe he should practice in zero gravity first, (even if he’d technically not ‘land’ and actually just keep spinning until he probably would throw up in his helmet).

Shiro had walked by, asking what he was doing when he’d begun and the conversation was pleasant enough.

“Lance- not that I don’t think you’re crazy, but is there any reason you’re dragging a mattress down the hall?” The former black paladin asked, looking mildly concerned, (which Lance would reflect on, was fair enough given that he DID grab a fairly large mattress and it was pretty weird, even for him).  
“Huh? What? Oh, sorry Shiro.” He started, letting the object in question fall to the floor with a thump before speaking directly to the man he idolized and respected. “I’m just going to practice doing backflips and I figured after failing and hitting the floor, this would be better.”  
Shiro’s uptick of an eyebrow told the red paladin more than he wanted to know about Shiro’s take on the subject.

“You know we have mats in the training room right?”  
“Yeah.”  
“So, why aren’t you in there? You know, using them?” There it was, that condescending Shiro knew best tone. Lance knew it came from a well-meaning place but Shiro sounded way too much like an old man or some strict commander when he got that tone, (even if he had been their de-facto leader for a time).  
“Look, if I want to learn to back flip, I’m not going to do it in front of everyone else and be humiliated.”  
“You’re dragging a mattress down a hallway Lance.”  
He had a point. “Yeah so?”  
Shiro was silent for a beat. “Isn’t this a bit more-“  
“Look Shiro, if I’m going to learn to do this, I’m doing it my way.” He bent down, lifting back up his corner of the heavy bedding. “Besides, Keith is at the training room with his knife of Gomore-whatever and I can’t distract him. He needs his space for that.” Lance knew it was something Keith had to work out on his own, being part Galra. Heck, it didn’t change how the team worked and felt, and while he seemed fine, Lance saw it better than most. It was still a sensitive thing for the new Black Paladin, and he needed his space. He needed time to himself.  
“Oh.” Shiro looked at Lance a bit surprised before a small smile graced his features, softening his expression. He got it. “Let me help you at least set this up then. If you’re going to break your face, might as well protect the rest of you.”  
“Thanks man.”  
“Anytime. Besides, if your face got ruined what WOULD you have going for you when it came to picking up those alien hotties?” Shiro teased, earning a fake hurt gasp and accusation from Lance as they took the mattress to it’s destined location.

Hunk arrived an hour later. With a bag of chips. He stared at Lance for a few faceplants before offering up only a very succulent “You know-” crunch went his chips followed by chewing then, “-It helps not to land on you face.”  
Lance looked up from his position on his back with narrowed eyes and a scowl that could flay a lesser man. Or at least make a normal person uncomfortable. Too bad Hunk wasn’t normal in any sense.  
“No, really?”  
“Yeah man, hurts a lot less. Wait, what are you doing?” Hunk was trying to help, bless him. But Lance, even knowing that his heart was in a good place still felt his anger rise with the well meaning critique.  
“What does it look like? I’m trying to backflip!”  
“OH.” CRUNCH. Another chip bite and chewing as Lance tried another flip. Another failure, but at least this time he managed to get on his feet for all of half a second.  
“Well, good luck I guess.” Hunk shrugged, leaving Lance to his backflips.

Pidge showed up awhile later, taking one look at Lance, who now was at least landing on his feet.  
“If you die, I call dibs on your stash of guns.”  
Lance looked over, mouth open as they walked away, content to go back to whatever it was they were typing out on their datapad.  
Pidge was just that thype to burn and let you sit in the smoldering pile that was your own corpse. Harsh Pidge was an honest Pidge at least.

Keith though? When Keith rolled by after many a near miss, his own hair sticking to his neck after his own practice, he watched in remote silence.  
“Well?” Lance asked, irate at the fact Keith was saying nothing.  
“Nothing I’m just... Surprised I guess.” The newly minted Black Paladin replied.  
“At what? That I’m trying something new or totally cool?” Lance asked ready for a verbal spar.  
Keith scowled. “There is nothing cool about backflips,” a lie if Lance ever heard one, “just kind of impressed, figured you’ve give up hours ago.”

Lance kept his mouth shut for a while before he replied.  
“Well when we go into battle next and I do a sweet backflip and shoot the enemy right between the eyes we’ll see who’ll be laughing then.”  
Lance smirked. “Yeah right. Good luck Lance.”

 

By the time it was time to turn in for the night, Lance had it. He could land a backflip, and had celebrated loudly with Coran and the space equivalent of pizza.  
Two days later, on a mission, Lance had decided to put the skill to use, running up a wall partially, backflipping off of it, and shooting the Galra drone that Keith had been fighting with dead.

“NOW WHO’S THE COOL ONE?!” He yelled, pleased as punch that all his efforts had paid off.

Keith just stood, perplexed as the final drone fell and Lance stood, smug and daring the black paladin to say something.  
“You didn’t HAVE to do a backflip!” Okay, unappreciative much?  
Lance scoffed. “Uh, no, but I looked cool while doing it and it worked so whatever. You can thank me later.”  
“GUYS?” Hunk yelled. “THE MISSION? LIONS? NOT DYING?”  
Allura just muttered as they began the run back to their lions.  
“That was impressive, if rather flamboyant Lance.”  
“HA! See Keith, even Allura agrees.”  
“LANCE!” 

The red paladin was smug, the entire trip back.


	3. Hunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk attempts to fill a void that no poptart can ever fill. Supposedly.

Hunk was as a boy, one that grew up with a fully cooked breakfast each morning. Toast, jam, some form of cooked meat, (usually pork links or sausages), eggs, (dry, scrambled. Never wet) and a glass of orange juice. Even when he’d grown up, he’d learned to make himself breakfast, putting in that extra time and care so come the rest of the day, he’d be ready to handle whatever it was the world threw at him. At the Garrison he’d been a bit disappointed with the culinary care that went into breakfast but, it was still a full meal, all the fixings. 

In the Castle of Lions? No one seemed to have a concept of a whole breakfast, let alone partake of a breakfast outside of the Altean equivalent of a poptart. Sure, it had a pasty puff crust and a gooey sweet filling, but it was not nutritionally balance despite what Coran said. It was a sugary sweet pastry that was a cop out for an actual meal and Hunk was moderately taken back when he’d found that none of the other paladins, not even Shiro ate regular normal breakfasts. Heck, Allura and Coran both said they just often got so wrapped up in their work that they would forget to eat, or eat the ‘Drumskil’ aka space poptart.  
It was an affront to everything Hunk had grown up on. To every culinary sensibility and bone in his body and by god, he was going to show them all the value of a whole well balanced breakfast. 

Step one: Getting the Ingredients.  
The fact that most nights they ate the food goop was not lost on Hunk. He could work with it sure but nothing could beat out a home cooked meal. Venturing back to the space mall in disguise was a pain, as was bartering for items that were as close to their earth counterparts as possible. In the end, he had a sort of sourdough breadloaf. Some kind of wild boar bacon, (which had a slightly nutty flavor to it), eggs from a weird green bird, (green eggs and ham anyone?), an orange tasting jam that was in fact purple in color, and the best: real fresh, earth blueberries. The blueberries had been labeled as ‘poisonous’ by the trader who apparently as a species was allergic. He’d made note to ask Allura or Coran about that.

Step two: Getting the Paladins to agree to eat a meal if cooked. One by one, Hunk asked them how they liked their eggs, their toast, their bacon, what they drank. All of them said roughly the same thing. They didn’t care. All but Pidge, who said the same thing but much nicer and asked for sunny side up eggs and ‘maybe French toast if you wouldn’t mind’. Hunk would make Pidge the best darn space French toast she’d ever had in her life. He could always count on Pidge.

Step three: Make sure he wasn’t going to accidentally kill Coran or Allura.  
Step four: Eat the Blueberries alone in sadness when you find out they’re highly toxic to most aliens and it was humans as the weird alien species when it came to that particular fruit.

Step five: Cook.

Step six: Give the side eye to every single paladin who arrived that morning, salivating and asking for personal requests. A LONG side eye. 

Step Seven: Cook breakfast perfectly as possible and watch as every single paladin sat at the table, anticipating what they thought would be Hunk treating them without a catch

Step Eight? _ShowTime_  
“Okay so this is how it goes.” Hunk said as he laid out the various plates.  
“You get a choice. One of these dumb space poptarts.” He held up the offending item in question.  
“Or a whole, warm, freshly cooked breakfast. Pick.”

They  
Actually  
Debated

They debated if they preferred the poptart to the breakfast and Hunk stood in stunned silence while the rest of his team discussed the merits of a single poptart over his meal.

How had this happened? Did they just all go nuts? Even after they started eating to compare the choices, _they all debated if it was really worth it _.__

___Hunk felt his soul leave his body and ascend to an astral plane. This couldn’t be real. They couldn’t be serious. The final vote, delivered by Pidge was like a slap in the face._  
“The meal was really good, but, most days, I think we’ll stick with the Drumskil. Its fast, easy and heal-“  
“NO!” Hunk slammed his fist on the table nearly wanting to cry.  
“It’s a freaking poptart how is a POPTART breakfast?”  
“Hey, don’t start dissing the legacy breakfast hotpocket!” Lance yelled back, standing, ready for a fight.  
Hunk just got even more wrapped up in it. “A HOTPOCKET IS A DISGRACED CALZONE.”  
“TAKE THAT BACK HUNK.” Lance was yelling across the table, Hunk was yeling across the table.  
“Augh, see this is why a whole breakfast is a bad idea every time we try it someone is cranky in the morning. I’m leaving!” Keith flounced dramatically as per his limit of 15 minutes of interaction before 9am.  
Pidge just quietly kept eating everything. Allura looked concerned and Coran was rambling about some space war started over who had the better Drumskil back in the day. 

__Shiro just looked beside himself as Lance and Hunk kept yelling._ _

__An hour later, as Hunk sulked in the kitchen, one of the mice ran by, a tiny piece of the toast in it’s little paws. Hunk huffed that at least someone liked his cooking.  
The mouse, if knowing perfectly, ripped a tiny chunk out of the bread and presented it to Hunk before running off._ _

__It was silly, but it made the yellow paladin smile. He might have lost a battle, but he hadn’t lost the war.  
Even if Drumskils were nothing but glorified space poptarts._ _


End file.
